Princess Tournament: Fight to the Death
by AkwardChit
Summary: The Disney Princesses have been captured. Now some mysterious cooperative, including the Princesses' old enemies, is forcing them to fight each other. All of villainy is watching to see which Princesses will go down, and which will make it to the next round. The catch? The girls befriend each other in the dungeon. And now they're forced to fight. To the death. [Action]
1. Twelve Girls and a Genie

The light of a brilliant torch suddenly flooded a generally dark and depressing dungeon. The man holding the torch noted how ancient the place looked; it had to outdate the stadium above by a couple hundred years, at least. Maybe more. So many cracks decorated the stone, and so much filth was accumulated in the corners, that it was nearly impossible for the dungeon to have been built recently.

But that was irrelevant presently. He had a job to do, and he was required to do it. As a genie, after all, his master's word was his command.

It's not like he minded very much. This job did have some perks. One being, of course, his freedom, which his master had promised to give him as for his third and final wish. He had already used his first two, so it wouldn't be very long after this job was completed that Jafar would have his freedom. And the other perk…

The light from Jafar's torch fell upon twelve female figures, all attached to the walls with chains of varying severity. One girl, who couldn't have been more than fourteen years of age, was bound by only a single chain locked around one ankle. He could see why; the weak little thing was crying piteously, and had been every time he checked up on the twelve girls. Jafar laughed to himself; she wouldn't make it past the first round, no matter who she was pitted against.

The two most heavily restrained girls – one Scottish and the other Chinese, both plastered onto the back wall – not only wore shackles on their wrists and ankles, but were muffled and restricted at the waist by a leather strap as well. Most of the rest of them had separately chained arms and legs, all anchored to the dungeon walls.

This was the case for one girl in particular; the one Jafar was delighted to see in chains. Jasmine.

Jafar found her towards the back, between the crying girl and some redhead he didn't care to recognize. She was very pale, the redhead; perhaps from up north? It didn't matter very much to him, anyways. He knew whom he had come to torture.

"Hello, Jasmine dear," he said upon reaching her, tilting her head up with a single, bony finger on the chin. "Did you miss me?"

"Hardly," Jasmine spat immediately.

"Are you comfortable?" he asked sarcastically.

"I'm chained to a wall. What do you think?" It was a little too much spunk for his taste, to be honest.

"Just making sure." Jafar finished with a vile, toothy grin, and then turned to face all twelve girls. He had prepared a little speech. Jafar cleared his throat. "May I have your attention?"

Nine heads turned to face him. Jasmine, because she knew Jafar, could get away with not looking. The other two who didn't look were the girls strapped to the wall, since their muffles were anchored in place. They were physically incapable of looking.

"Tomorrow is a big day for you girls. The opening fight of the competition. How exciting! Two of you will be selected at random tomorrow, and the day after, and so forth for six consecutive days. The six winners shall continue to the next round, and be one step closer to gaining their freedom. The losers…" Jafar paused for dramatic effect. "Did I mention that these fights are to the death?"

He was rather disappointed when no one reacted.

"Has it ever occurred to you, Jafar," Jasmine spoke suddenly and caustically, "that these girls can't understand Arabic?"

Jafar cursed under his breath. She was right. Luckily, though, Jafar was a magical genie. He could send his message telepathically, directly into the heads of the girls, if he needed to. He did. He repeated what he had already said, and finally a sea of eyes widened. Jafar smiled. "Good, you're listening." he transmitted into twelve minds (though Jasmine could understand him verbally, he didn't want to speak aloud just for her and waste his breath).

"If you lose," Jafar continued telepathically, "you will have been killed by one of the people you see in the room with you. You will never again see your family or friends, and nor will they ever see you. And if you fail to cooperate…" Jafar interlocked his fingers. "My friend Hades will pay your loved ones a surprise visit. Am I understood?"

He was understood.

Jafar smiled maliciously. "Good." With that, he made haste to the exit, tossing back a notice about when the girls would be fed on his way out. All twelve of them heard it.

• • •

This was one of those times that Belle was glad both for her love of books and her experience being captured by a beast. Though she couldn't see any way out of this one, it was impossible to overstate how much calmer Belle was than some of the girls around her. The one to her right, especially, was crying every time Belle looked at her. That girl, unlike Belle, had obviously never been in a cell before.

When that man (Jafar was his name, right?) had come in with his torch, Belle had taken advantage of the light to examine her surroundings. To her left and right were a redheaded girl and the crying one, respectively. Directly in front of her was a brunette German girl, and there was a blonde on either side of her. Belle sat near the mouth of the dungeon; there were more people towards the back of the cave, some of exotic skin tones, but Belle couldn't really remember what they looked like.

Now that Belle had oriented herself, she could focus on trying to communicate with the other girls. She reasoned that they'd have the best chance of getting out if they worked together.

Belle turned to the crying girl to her right and gently placed a chained hand on her shoulder. She probably needed support more than anyone at that moment. "Excuse me," she said softly. "Are you all right?"

The girl jumped a little, turning her head slightly, and replied weakly in German. "What did you say?"

This was the part where Belle was glad she read so much. At some point, she had run out of novels to read in French, and had dipped into German and English literature. Her English was sketchy at best, but, through all her books (and a few lessons from a kind German man passing through town), Belle was fairly fluent in the other language. Enough to hold a conversation, at least. "Are you all right?" she repeated, this time in German.

She shied away. "Not really," she admitted. Belle saw her in the dim light of a few tiny candles placed along the walls of the dungeon. She couldn't have been very old at all; fourteen, maybe, or even younger. It made Belle feel like a big sister.

"It's okay," Belle reassured the girl. "I don't think any of us are really 'all right' at the moment." Then, after allowing for a little pause to change the subject, "What's your name?"

"Snow White."

Belle smiled. "Snow. That's a pretty name. I'm Belle."

To Belle's surprise, the girl looked confused. "Most people don't call me just Snow. They usually say Snow White."

"Oh, I'm so sorry! I didn't know..." Belle felt like an idiot for just going ahead and abbreviating her name like that, without even asking.

"No, it's fine. Really." The girl wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "I kind of like Snow. It's shorter."

"That it is," said neither Belle nor Snow. Both of their heads spun to face the brunette on the opposite side of the dungeon. She had spoken German.

"And what is your name, if I may ask?" said Belle. Might as well make it a point to learn everyone's name, if they were going to bust out of here together.

"Rapunzel. And, if I heard correctly, you are Belle, and she is Snow. Right?"

"Right," Belle confirmed.

"Good, because that's what I gathered as well." Now three heads turned to face the girl on Rapunzel's left (which was right for Belle). "The name's Cinderella," she said with a attempted curtsy. It was comically awkward, with the chains on her wrists and all.

Belle smiled. "Well, nice to meet you, Cinderella. And you too, Rapunzel." This was going better than planned. She almost felt like she was best friends with these people already. As far as she could tell, Rapunzel seemed to be about as scared of the dungeon as Belle was herself, which is to say not very much at all. Cinderella was shaking a bit, but was far more composed than Snow had been. And at least she was awake; the blonde on Rapunzel's other side was busily snoring away. Yes, that one was snoring.

And that is when the redhead to Belle's left caught her attention.

"Hello?" the girl said in French.

• • •

Ariel was, to be quite honest, a little scared. The closest thing to a prison she had been in was Ursula's cave. She hadn't even been on dry land for very long, not to mention the entirely alien world of a dry dungeon. All her time above sea level had been spent in a royal setting, with grand halls and marvelous rooms, all gilded from ceiling to floor. The cold stone of a common jail cell came as a bit of a shock.

Sure, she was an adventurous girl. Under normal circumstances, she would have been ecstatic to explore a place like this. It was having to stay there against her own will combined with the lack of an escape route that made her spine tingle.

But when the girl next to her had spoken French… she had spoken French, right? It was very brief, and she quickly began speaking something else… but Ariel was certain she had started out in French.

Which is, of course, why Ariel had to grab her attention. At least she'd have someone to talk to while she was down there. And she knew she wouldn't take talking for granted ever again.

"Hello?"

The girl turned around and smiled. She was obviously a French girl, a brunette who was probably a little older than Ariel herself. "Hey! I'm Belle. I take it you're French?" She knew, apparently, that she looked very French.

"Not really…" Seeing the confused look on Belle's, she elaborated. "I… kind of used to be half fish. I'm from the sea, a bit south of France."

"Oh…" Belle didn't know how to respond to that. Ariel blushed. Surely it wasn't that weird?

"Yeah, I know. It sounds a bit far fetched." Hey, conversation was conversation.

"Oh, no. Not at all. My husband used to be an anthropomorphic lupine beast. It's not weird at all."

Ariel just smiled and played along, pretending like she knew what anthropomorphic meant. Or lupine, for that matter.

"Oh!" Belle said suddenly. "I just realized, I forgot to ask you for your name."

"Sorry. I'm Ariel." She smiled warmly and awkwardly. "I'm still a little new to this whole 'being a person' thing."

"Well, Ariel," Belle said with a reassuring smile, "I'd say you're doing rather well. Better than I could do. And I'm glad there's someone here I can talk to in French."

"You should be!" interjected a voice in French. Ariel and Belle both turned their heads to the German on the other side of the prison. Rapunzel, unless Ariel had picked out a German word and thought it to be her name. That would be awkward.

And Ariel wasn't a stranger to being socially awkward. Outgoing, sure. Adventurous, definitely. But awkward nonetheless.

• • •

Rapunzel relished Belle's puzzled look. "You can speak French?"

Rapunzel shrugged nonchalantly. She was already finding messing with Belle really funny. "Just a bit. I read a lot."

Belle's eyes glowed. "Same here!"

Rapunzel felt a tap on her left shoulder. "Hey… Rapunzel, right?" Cinderella said in German.

"Yeah?"

"What's going on?"

"The redhead over there introduced herself. She's Ariel," Rapunzel said as Ariel, hearing her name, waved hi to Cinderella without understanding the rest of the sentence.

Cinderella waved back without having understood any of the French they were speaking earlier. "So she's Ariel, next to her is Belle, and next to her is Snow."

"Right." Belle confirmed in German. "And then Cinderella, Rapunzel, and… the one taking a nap."

Everyone laughed at that, even Ariel, who had no idea what was just said. Belle translated, and Ariel laughed for real.

"She's kinda pretty," Snow commented timidly.

"Then it's settled!" Rapunzel cocked her head and put her hands underneath, as if she were sleeping. "We'll call her Napping Pretty."

Belle frowned. "That's a bit clunky."

Rapunzel straightened. "You have a better idea?"

"Sleeping Beauty."

Rapunzel considered it for a long while, rolling over the phonetics and what not. "Naaaah. That's not as good."

"But you can't use pretty as a noun!" Belle reasoned. "At least Sleeping Beauty makes a shred of sense."

"The name's Aurora." Cinderella said out of the blue.

Rapunzel was confused. "How come you know a thing like that?"

"We were brought here in the same cart. I got to talk to her for a while before they chained us up."

Suddenly the atmosphere became denser, as the newly befriended girls were reminded of the gravity of their situation. Belle translated the last few things for Ariel so she was up to speed.

"I guess we'll need an escape plan, then." Rapunzel said in German. Belle would have to translate for Ariel; Snow and Cinderella both only knew German, so it made more sense to communicate to two people and have one in need of translation.

"I guess so." Cinderella looked over at the back of the dungeon, where six sets of eyes were staring at them intently. "Should we get them in on it?"

Rapunzel followed Cinderella's eyes. If those people could understand German, they sure didn't say anything about it. Two of the three darker people, chained to the same wall as Rapunzel, were chatting softly in some language she didn't recognize, while the other four remained silent. The two in the very back kind of had to stay silent, though; they had muffles. "Would they want to?"

"I can ask," Belle said. All eyes turned to her, and she blushed. "Those two girls are speaking English. I think they're talking about guns or something… I can't hear them that well. They're too quiet."

Rapunzel smiled. "Is there a language you don't know, Belle?"

"My English is very limited, actually. Just enough to pick up a few words here and there, maybe a simple sentence."

"Well," Rapunzel began, "use your limited English and get some information from those two! Maybe they can help us get out of this place."

Rapunzel saw Belle open her mouth to speak, and she saw the two English speaking girls turn their attention towards her. Everyone fell silent, however, when the door rattled, unlocked, and swung open.

*****Author's Note*****

** And there's the first chapter! They will fight, but there will be other stuff in there too (like this chapter) that will hopefully add some drama to the action. I also left in what is also cut out: the language barrier. Please review and tell me what you think!**

** P.S. The cover image is a map of how the princesses are laid out in the dungeon. I know it's probably confusing to just read it, so I included the visual.**


	2. Rats, Cliffes, and a Ton of Gas

Pocahontas was immediately filled with loathing upon seeing the man who opened the door. This was no small feat; there was only one man who could brew so much hate in her.

Governor Ratcliffe.

Of course, she could not be actively angry with him for very long. It was against her nature to direct that much of her energy towards petty conflict. But a certain line had been crossed when she was bound and gagged and thrown in the back of a cart with a sack on her head. Ratcliffe's was the last face she saw before waking up in the dungeon.

Wasn't he supposed to be in prison for shooting John Smith? Pocahontas hadn't forgiven Ratcliffe for the shooting; even though it was an accident on Ratcliffe's part and sheer selflessness on John's, Ratcliffe had been aiming for her father. Pocahontas was supposed to be able to forgive him for that, as it was her nature to do so, and out loud she had. But internally, she knew that she would forever hold a grudge against Ratcliffe.

Pocahontas had been discussing Ratcliffe and her past with Tiana, the dark skinned girl chained to her right. Tiana spoke a strange form of English that Pocahontas had never heard the settlers speak; Pocahontas would often have to ask Tiana to rephrase something she said. She called Pocahontas's English 'Old English.' What was so 'old' about it, anyways? If anything, Tiana's English was old; she drawled words together, like one with so many years that she can no longer talk properly.

That was unimportant at the moment. Ratcliffe, with a torch in hand, came into the chamber rolling some metal cart, on which was a loaf of bread, several potatoes and as many carrots, a stack of steel plates, cups made of some foreign substance, and a pitcher of what was most likely water. None of it looked particularly appetizing except for the potatoes, which were freshly baked and sending their steam all across the dungeon. The girls hadn't eaten for nearly a day, and twelve noses immediately began sniffing ravenously, as if the air were the food itself.

Ratcliffe began grumpily handing out dishes. A slice of bread, a potato, a carrot, and a cup of water per person. One at a time - much to the suffering of those in the back – Ratcliffe assembled the plates and placed them before each prisoner. The girls were still chained down, but their hands were free enough to bring food to the mouth.

The girls all either ate in silence or starved in silence as Ratcliffe made his way deeper into the dungeon. No one risked talking, lest she lose her supper. The girl diagonal from Pocahontas (the one with skin closest in color to Pocahontas's own) received her meal. Tiana was served, and then the pale girl across from Pocahontas. Ratcliffe turned and faced Pocahontas, and his expression of bitter submission melted into one of villainous superiority.

"So we meet again, Indian."

Pocahontas said nothing. There was no use in arguing, or even talking with a man like Ratcliffe. It was best to wait until she was served and watch him have to leave unsatisfied.

"Not ready to talk, are you?" Raftcliffe said as he assembled her plate. "Or do you not know how? Savage."

Tiana didn't say anything to defend Pocahontas, but the word 'savage' had caught her attention. She had put down her potato, but hadn't turned to look. It was enough of a gesture to be appreciated.

"Here's your plate," Ratcliffe spat, giving up on hearing a word from Pocahontas. He was definitely being forced into this work, but by whom there wasn't a clue.

As Ratcliffe began unlocking the muzzles and hands of the two girls chained to the wall (Pocahontas felt really bad for them; the pale one right beside her seemed especially miserable), Pocahontas ate her potato and drank out of that strange glass. What was that substance? It was the color of a cloud, but sort of see-through, and it was springy like wood but smooth like metal and neither hot nor cold relative to the dungeon air.

Then a large clank suddenly caught every girl's attention. They spun their heads to find the previously restrained girls at the end of the cave collapse on the ground in a heap of metal bindings.

And, to Pocahontas's horror, the pale one (who apparently had red hair) spoke.

"You're gonna get yer ass outta here if you know what good for ya!"

• • •

Merida was pissed. This asshole couldn't have been slower with unlocking her chains if he tried! Merida had gotten her skin caught in between two plates while the man was taking them off of her body.

The fat man turned around slowly, probably trying to look scary. As if. "_What_ did you say?"

Merida checked her surroundings quickly. A tan girl and a darker girl to her right were violently shaking their heads 'no'. The girl to her left, with silky black hair that made Merida a little jealous, was too busy eating to care about anything else. There were girls chained along the hallway on either side. Merida's own chains – of which she had far more than anyone else, besides maybe the poor lass to her left – were rough and heavy, and they made her skin chafe. It made her irritable.

The fat man scoffed, making Merida realize that she hadn't said anything. "That's what I thought."

Merida was about to retaliate. She would have done it too, if the dark girls to her right weren't breaking their necks with how hard they were shaking 'no'. She didn't was to be an ass, so she swallowed her pride and shut her mouth.

Merida smirked. The guys back home wouldn't have believed what she just did.

The fat man began rolling his cart to the exit, where he suddenly stopped. He turned around and, with his torch held in front, began pacing up and down the aisle. Every now and then, he'd stare someone down for attempting to talk with the girl next to her. No one got more than a few words.

No one, of course, besides Merida.

Half way through the meal, Merida got sick of the fear-induced silence. She decided to talk to the dark girls, because they seemed to know English. Sure, Merida was a Scot, but she knew a fair bit of English, and the girls had understood what the fat man had said.

"Hey," Merida began casually with a chunk of bread in her mouth. "You two speak English, right?"

The lighter of the two tried to shush Merida, while the darker one looked apprehensively at the fat man. To her relief, he hadn't noticed.

"Listen, I know that man," the lighter one whispered. "We're not is a position to anger him, but he shouldn't be much of a threat if we lay low."

Merida whispered out of respect. "But what are yer names?"

The lighter one glanced at the fat man quickly before proceeding. "I am called Pocahontas, and she is Tiana." Tiana waved from behind.

Merida knew they had been talking before, but the muzzle strap had gone over her ears. At least she knew their names, if nothing else. "I'm Merida." Shifting her eyes, she said, "Do ya know when the fat man is leaving?"

Suddenly, a loud crack resonated through the chamber. Merida nearly pissed her pants, it was so loud. She turned to see the fat man brandish the whip he had just used. He walked angrily right up in Merida's face.

"_What_ did you call me?" The fat man blew his vile breath into Merida's nose.

"The fat man!" Merida spat in his face. "Now get the hell outta my space, ya filthy ass!" So much for keeping calm.

The fat man raised his whip high into the air, and sent it hurling towards Merida's back.

• • •

Anna was drowning in sea of black. All the lights were out, and Anna was terrified. Especially after that whipping.

Thankfully, it didn't look like the girl the man had whipped had been hurt too badly. She was in a pile of heavy metal chains, and they caught a vast majority of the blows. There wasn't even any blood spilt, as far as Anna saw. It was still terrifying to watch, though; after all, what was could stop that man from doing it to her?

At least he was gone now. After whipping the redheaded girl he had tied her the girl to Anna's right back up, picked up all the plates, and blown the candles on the longer walls out before leaving. It was pitch black.

Anna couldn't sleep. The chains were far too heavy and the hand and foot locks far too rough for Anna's comfort, though her captors were probably not too concerned with that. How did Elsa stand it, back when Hans and his cronies had captured her?

Elsa…

If only Anna knew where she was! She'd feel so much better. But no; the crooks that captured her had a sack over her head before she could even scream. Elsa could be back home… or she could have been captured too. Anna had no idea.

She had never been in a situation quite like this. She had her health, thank God. But she didn't know where she was or who had captured her, and she could barely move with all those chains weighing her down. There was really only one thing she knew for certain – she was going to have to fight someone.

That genie had said it. There were to be six days of fighting, one for each pair in the set of twelve. While there was light, Anna had sized up as many of the girls as she could, just to see what her chances of surviving until Elsa rescued her.

That is assuming, of course, that Elsa could rescue herself if necessary.

Anna shook the thought out of her head. There was no use dwelling on such depressing things. Anna had saved Elsa's life already; surely Elsa would do the same in return? Of course! Then why was Anna worried?

Because Elsa might be captured too. Or worse.

No! Elsa could handle herself. That wasn't the issue, Anna told herself. Surviving until Elsa shows up – that's the problem. As long as Anna didn't have to fight the crass redhead that had taken a whipping already… Anna couldn't really judge people's fighting skills based on the way they ate.

So what proof did she have that she could beat them in a fight? She had basically never fought anything! Marshmallow the snow monster, maybe…

Anna's thoughts continued to rumble on like that as she fell asleep. She couldn't help but notice that it hadn't even been a full day, and she was sitting there thinking of ways to kill the people around her.

Why the hell was she thinking that?

• • •

Snow White awoke to a harsh torchlight. Most of the other girls slept through it, but it was bright enough to wake Belle up. Snow was glad to have a friend awake and able to share whatever experience they were about to have.

It wasn't a pleasant experience.

Belle was shocked from her drowsy state when a handsome, burly man was found to be holding the torch. She was wide eyed and pale, and she stumbled backwards so noisily that her rattling chains woke up half the room. Belle began rambling in French.

The man smiled, and said something else in French. Snow looked across the cell to see Rapunzel, who had just woken from Belle's movement, look suddenly concerned.

Belle talked some more to the man in a horribly hateful voice. The man reciprocated in a mockingly sweet one. Belle kicked his shin, but he dodged it and gave her a dominance establishing smile.

Snow's eyes flicked back to Rapunzel. She was too far away to reach the man. She just sat, biting her nails in painful anticipation. Snow noticed that Cinderella was just as confused as she was, but Ariel (Snow could see past Belle's body) was nearly as terrified as Belle herself.

This is when Snow noticed that the man had a spool of chains in his hand. The man threw the spool back and let it clamorously fall in a line stretching from the door to the two girls in the back. Then, one by one, he began unchaining the girls from the wall and reattaching them to the separate chain.

Belle continued to spit at the man in French, and he continued to, for the most part, mock her. Snow really wanted to ask Belle to translate what she was saying, but she didn't want to annoy the man. He was very strong looking, and she didn't want him to get as mad as the fat man with the whip had last night.

Snow examined the man when it was her turn to be repositioned. He honestly didn't have very much to him, other than his muscles. He was brawny, he was tough, hairy, handsome, and in all likelihood illiterate. Why he looked illiterate, Snow had no idea; it was just a hunch.

Snow White spent most of the next half hour in a daze. She was hungry and tired, she realized, and in no hurry to anger the strong man. She didn't dare say a word; though he hadn't hurt Belle for any of the probably rude things she said, Snow didn't want to risk it.

At some point, after the strong man had attached everyone (including the two girls at the back) onto the chain and was leading the twelve girls out, Rapunzel had a chance to explain some of what the strong man and Belle had said.

"His name's Gaston," Rapunzel explained. "He's Belle's worst nightmare. He chased her around for a long time, harassing her to marry him. Belle was pretty sure her boyfriend had killed him already – I mean, Gaston had been thrown off a cliff. And now he's back here and he's harassing Belle again… it's really annoying her."

"As it should," Snow answered after cautiously checking that Gaston wasn't looking. "That sounds awful."

The girls continued walking in near silence (save Gaston's prattle to Belle) for a while longer. Once, Cinderella asked Snow where they were going. Snow couldn't give a helpful answer.

Gaston lead them through a series of stone corridors that gave way to brick, and later to a strange seamless white paneling. The floors transformed from rock to dirt to wood to an array of glossy tile, each just large enough to fit both of Snow's feet. There was even a point when Gaston's torch and the candles on the walls were no longer needed, as the ceiling itself had glowing strips of white light clustered in groups and embedded in a speckled white tile.

There was a crisp wooden door that Gaston opened at last, and he lead the girls inside. Once Snow was past the frame of the door, she was able to see what the whole trip was for in the first place.

There was a stadium – a massive stadium, easily seating a hundred thousand people. The place was packed with figures of all shapes and sizes and species, and the noise they were making was deafening. A vast arena lay beneath them, covered in rocks and dirt and large patches of open space. Snow looked to find the door to her right, and a metal wall to her left. There was a single bench in the long rectangular room that every girl was now sitting on, adjusting her chains or looking out the enormous window that was the wall in front of her.

Snow began to get a little scared. There was a lot of noise and commotion, and she was a little more awake and aware of her surroundings after that half hour walk. But the real thing that scared her was the booming voice that came from overhead.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, the moment you've all been waiting for… the opening fight of the first ever Princess Tournament!" The roar of the crowd died down a little as the voice spoke and intensified tenfold when he had finished. "Our lovely assistant Miss Megara will now draw the name of the first competitor!"

There was a relative silence as the audience waited to see who the first competitor was. Snow crossed her fingers and hoped with all her heart that it wouldn't be her. It really couldn't be her.

She didn't want to die.

"Meg has drawn, ladies and gentlemen! And the first competitor is…"

** ***Author's Note*****

** Second chapter! We get to meet two more villains and see through the eyes of four more princesses. There will be a fight next chapter, I promise. Tell me what you think, and thanks for reading and reviewing!**

** P.S. Since Meg isn't and never will be an official Disney Princess, she's not going to fight… but I just had to throw her into the story somehow. One does not simply leave Meg out.**


	3. Round 1, Match 1

Mulan wriggled anxiously, feeling a terrible pit grow in her stomach. She had a feeling her name was going to be called, largely because the announcer was speaking Chinese. It had to be directed straight at her (though the other girls, who were definitely _not _Chinese, seemed to understand it just as well).

Of course, Mulan could probably hold herself up in a fight against any one of these people, except the redhead that got whipped last night. Mulan winced. It wasn't very pleasant to look at violence, even after her time in the military. You'd think a girl would get used to seeing things like that.

She would be perfectly fine _dueling_ with any of them. It would be fun, even, if they used fake weapons and all. Combat practice, nothing more. But _killing_ people who had done her no harm? She wouldn't stand for it. She couldn't stand for it.

But she had to stand. As feared, her name was called.

"Mulan!" The crowd burst into cheer, and the burly man that had led all the girls into the chamber unlocked Mulan's handcuffs and removed them entirely. It was the first time in two days that Mulan had had full mobility of her hands. The burly man grabbed her by the wrist and walked her to the door, the same door they had entered through.

She was handed off to one of two guard-looking people, who were as disturbingly pale as the some of the other captives. The one who took hold of her was the taller and broader of the two, and had short brown hair that fell into sideburns and collected on his upper lip, leaving his chin bare. What an odd way to style hair.

That really wasn't much of a concern at the moment, though. Mulan followed where the man with the strange hair lead her. She didn't know where she was, so it wasn't a good time to break away and make a run for it. She would have to be smart if she were to ever get out of this mess alive, and take as many other captives with her on the way.

There would be an escape… eventually. Not now. Later, when she was ready.

Besides, it was just one fight. What could go wrong? As long as it wasn't the redhead, she'd be fine.

The man led her to a worn metal door that swung inwards to reveal the vast arena. There was a small, wheeled cart roughly fifty feet from the door. He walked up to it and motioned for Mulan to follow. She did.

Suddenly, the announcer spoke. "Snow White!" Mulan supposed that was the person she'd be fighting, but the name meant nothing to her.

Mulan's attention was taken away from the thought when the announcer came on again. "Now, as you probably know, each competitor will be allowed to choose one weapon to use in combat. Mulan, Snow White… choose your weapons!"

There was another door on the other side of the arena, Mulan realized, from which emerged her opponent. She couldn't recognize her from afar, but her hair was coal black. Thank the heavens.

The man with the strange hair directed Mulan to choose a weapon. Mulan looked. Inside the cart (the hatch had been opened) was every combat tool Mulan could fathom. Swords, knifes, daggers, bows and arrows of all types, and even some Japanese weapons Mulan couldn't name. How did it all fit in that dinky cart?

Mulan drew the sword most similar to the one she used most regularly back home. To her relief, it felt right. Right weight, right length. It was practically the same sword. She'd be able to defend herself just fine.

The stadium filled again with the announcer's voice. "The weapons have been chosen! Mulan has chosen the sword!" A roar from the audience. "Yes, it seems she's sticking to her roots with this classic one handed Chinese sword, ladies and gentlemen."

The voice waited to the noise to die down before making the next big announcement. "On the other end, ladies and gentlemen, Snow White has chosen the… apple?" There was a quick silence from the audience, and then ear splitting laughter.

Why the heck was there an apple in the other cart?

"An apple. _Of course,_" The announcer said sarcastically. "A standard Braeburn apple. Fiji? Red Delicious, maybe." Laughs rippled through the audience for a good minute or two, until the joke got old.

The man with the strange hair and his equivalent on the other side of the arena closed up the hatches on the carts and wheeled them out, locking the doors behind them. Only Mulan and Snow White remained in the arena.

Mulan tensed. There was no way out. Granted, there really hadn't been much of a way out before, but now there really wasn't a way out. The doors were locked, and her life was on the line. It was time to fight.

"Now that our competitors have their weapons, let the inaugural fight of Princess Tournament begin!" More cheers from the crowd. Mulan braced herself.

A bell rang, and Mulan was off. There was no real _reason_ why she charged at her opponent at full speed without a second thought. Fighting was just so engrained in her that, by now, it had become her default action. Her go-to plan. She was placed under stress, so of course she had to fight.

The prison rags she was apparently in (until now, there had been more important things to care about) were surprisingly good for running. The sword at ease in her right hand slowly raised itself as she approached her target, which hadn't moved yet. It wasn't that it hadn't moved from its spot; it literally hadn't moved. No change shifting of the torso, no repositioning of the arms… nothing.

At one point, when Mulan was perhaps thirty feet from the girl Snow White, the target collapsed. The apple – it really was ambiguous, what type it was – rolled out of her hand and fell onto the dusty arena floor. Mulan slowed. Snow White curled up into a ball and threw her arms up over her head for protection.

Much to the audience's dismay, Mulan's full sprint pattered to a stop. Mulan glanced to the side. The apple, which upon further inspection seemed a little too green for a red apple, was perfectly untouched. Snow White was not.

The girl's hands parted and revealed a terrified face. Utterly terrified. Her lower lip was white, she was biting it so hard, and her eyes dripped tears on either side of her young, pale face.

Mulan gripped her sword tighter, not out of anticipation of an attack, but because she needed something to squeeze. She wouldn't dare touch a hair on this poor girl's head. She was as innocent as that little doll…

The crowd was booing furiously. The announcer spoke, but it washed over Mulan's head. Nothing was happening. She wouldn't allow it. But Mulan remembered what that genie had said. If she didn't cooperate… who knew if they had Shang, or Mushu, or all of China hostage? She couldn't put her friends and family in danger.

The genie had said more. _Fight to the Death._ Only one of them would come out of this alive.

Mulan wished she could take her own life and save this girl. She really did. But there was no way this was going to be the last fight, and Snow White's next opponent was likely to not be as sympathetic.

What if the winner of this fight were to face the redhead next? A cowering lump of a girl like this didn't stand a chance.

Mulan had to put her to sleep. End her pain before she would get a chance to experience it. Slowly, her left hand curled around the sword's handle where the right already was, and Mulan lifted her weapon above her head.

The crowd ceased their booing. It was dead silent. The audience froze in anticipation. Mulan found the ideal spot, right through the back of the neck, where a swift chop should end all quickly. Mulan dared to peek at the trembling girl one last time, to make sure she was doing the right thing.

Snow White's eyes sparkled. She knew she was going to die. She had known that, if her name was ever called at all, she was going to die. She couldn't fight. Mulan figured she had been relying on that apple for something, but she couldn't figure out what just based on her expression. The point was, she had accepted her fate.

The sword fell.

In one slice, the head was lopped off. The body fell backwards, and blood from the torso ejected out of the neck and painted the dusty floor. The audience loved it, as did the announcer. "And there we have it, ladies and gentlemen! Just look at that blood flow!"

Mulan decided that she would rather not. Out of curiosity, and partially out of incredulity at what she just did, Mulan reached for the apple on the ground – the one that had fallen from Snow White's innocent little hands.

She wouldn't dare eat it; it looked bright red to a fault, so much so that it was sickly and smelled of green. Besides, it had been rolling around on the floor. Mulan hadn't seen an apple like this before…

The announcer was saying something, and the doors to the arena opened once more to reveal those two men from before. Mulan threw the apple to the ground and sliced it half with her sword out of haste; the men were approaching fast.

Immediately, a vile green smoke emerged from the flesh of the apple. It formed a little cloud of noxious fumes before fading into thin air. It was when the man with the strange hair had reached Mulan and seized her sword that a waft of the smell and a sudden realization both came to Mulan.

That smell was poison. What poison, Mulan couldn't tell, but it was undoubtedly poison. Mulan stared stupidly at Snow White's carcass, which was being dragged away by the other man. She had tried to poison her, hadn't she? That was her plan – to look like a little child, and offer her that apple.

If it hadn't rolled out of her hand… and if Mulan had eaten it…

Maybe the girl wasn't as helpless as Mulan thought. Maybe she deserved to be killed. Maybe not… but maybe so.

• • •

Cinderella stared blankly at the stone floor of the dungeon. She didn't have an appetite after witnessing that first match, so she had given her lunch bread to Rapunzel. She had no idea how Rapunzel could eat after a sight like that.

It really made the whole rest of her life seem laughable, honestly.

The mistreatment she had lived with, growing up with a stepmother like hers… it was unpleasant, sure. The whipping last night was an extreme version of some things she had already experienced (she had been belted more than once). But the blood of what was effectively an execution… the gore, the horror… the horror…

Cinderella glanced across the aisle. Belle hadn't eaten either; she had given her food to Ariel. Cinderella's heart wrenched violently. For her, watching Snow die was depressing. For Belle, it must've been like losing a long lost little sister she barely had a chance to meet.

There was a soft squishing sound coming from Ariel; she hadn't finished her bread yet, and in the silent cell every swish of her spit resonated for seconds on end. If it wasn't a little gross, and if the mood hadn't been so unnerving, it would've been adorable.

The girls had been re-chained hardly an hour ago. The strong man – Gaston, Cinderella recalled – had given the girls each a chunk of dark bread before leaving them to rot… but not for very long. Apparently, the fight wasn't gory enough for whoever was running this operation.

Shortly after they were re-chained, a tall, dark, and slender man made his was to the back of the cave. He wore a purple suit with an even purpler shirt inside, and his narrow black top hat featured a skull and crossbones on the front. His shadow was eerily misaligned, based on the direction the light was coming from. The dark girl to Cinderella's left stiffened at the sight of him.

The man, seeming as frustrated as he was, rather smoothly brought a little green pill up to his mouth and spoke. "Can you ladies hear me fine?"

Cinderella had assumed that he couldn't speak German, but she was wrong. Apparently he could speak multiple languages at once, because every girl nodded. That must have been what the pill was for.

He cracked a knowing smile before descending into focused anger. "Good." The pointed a long, bony finger at Snow's murderer. "You!"

The girl replied in some foreign language.

"That fight was unacceptable! People are paying to see action! Motion! Gore! Violence!"

The girl spoke again. Cinderella realized, one, that Gaston hadn't reconnected her muzzle, but had for the other girl, and two, the wall candle had been replaced with brighter, thicker ones, with tints of green and purple dancing in their flames.

"There is no room for mercy. Kill, or be killed." The man spun around. "Take notes, ladies. This is what happens when you don't put on a show."

Slowly, his Shadow began separating from its logical position. It peeled further and further into a third dimension, and then morphed from a plane the shape of a human to a ball the size of an apple. He grabbed it in his bony hands and shoved it into the murderer's mouth.

The girl's eyes widened. She wanted to scream, but she couldn't. She was wriggling jaggedly, as if she were trying not to. She was panting heavily, but at the same time choking in the abundance of a useless gas. Her eyes, now bloodshot, rolled back in her head.

Cinderella turned away. She caught a glimpse of the dark girl on her left; her face was almost more contorted than the murderer's. Everyone else in the cave was either disgusted or horrified, but the dark girl was feeling the pain as if she knew it could happen to her.

Which it could, Cinderella supposed. It could happen to any of them. Herself included.

• • •

Dr. Facilier entered the meeting room, as he was told. The thick wooden door shut resolutely behind him.

There was a large circular central table, which split the seating roughly into three sections. The smallest of the sections, which lay to the immediate right of the head of the table, housed those seeking riches. The greedy and the gluttonous; only two of the eleven in the room were foolish enough to have such lowly goals.

Directly opposite the head of the table sat the glory-seekers. The prideful, the envious, and the vain. It was the next largest section, holding four people. They seemed to be a fairly lazy bunch.

Nearest the leader and to her left were the powerful. The wrathful, the power hungry, the blood-lustful. Of course, this is where Dr. Facilier took his seat, along with three others (counting the leader in this category, which is the obvious choice, raises the number to four). This group could separate the goals that mattered from those that didn't.

The general noise was silenced when the leader banged her silent gavel. She spoke to the group. "We mustn't have another failure tomorrow."

Apparently, they had been talking long before Dr. Facilier walked in, because that didn't sound like much of an introduction.

The leader turned to Dr. Facilier. "And if Dr. Facilier has done his job properly, we won't have to worry about that. Will we, Doctor?"

"The problem is solved. They're scared shitless; they won't be acting up any time soon." He said it smoothly, as he tended to do, but he had to admit that the leader had an unsettling shill to her voice.

She wove her fingers together and cracked a villainous smile. "Good. See, Ratcliffe? Your profits are safe."

A fat man, presumably Ratcliffe, huffed in satisfaction. "Good. It better be worth it, after having to serve food to the damned girls."

"We all need to do our part," the leader said, "if this collaborative effort is to be a success."

"I just need to be assured that we will pull the same or larger audience tomorrow."

"Don't make people repeat themselves, Ratcliffe," the leader said coolly. "Dr. Facilier has already done that. Doctor?"

"I can assure you, sir," Dr. Facilier said, being polite just incase he would need something of Ratcliffe in the future, "that tomorrow's match will be the goriest thing you've seen since you were born!"

The room cheered with a passable huzzah. Even the leader, stoic as she could be, cracked another smile at the sound of it.

*****Author's Note*****

**And the first round has begun! I only made three sections this chapter, just because that first section was so long. I gave a little more info on the villains because reasons (I know, so explanatory). I promise there will be a Jasmine POV section next chapter. And OMG guys, thanks for all the reviews! I love the support!**

**P.S. musical heart-13, don't worry about your English. You have better English than the vast majority of people I know, and I live in the United States. Thanks for the long reviews :)**


	4. Calm Eye in a Storm of Thoughts

Maleficent was furious.

She should have asked Dr. Facilier to specify what he meant by, 'they're scared shitless." No shit, Facilier. That's what happens when you kill someone. Nearly.

Of course, she could fix it right up. It would take a little… persuasion on her part. But then again, this whole operation had taken a little persuasion. She knew she could rely on her benefactor to revive the girl Dr. Facilier had killed. Nearly.

That girl was needed to fight next week, after all. Her colleagues wouldn't want a sudden absence to hurt their bottom line.

• • •

Jasmine glanced over at the corpse hanging from the wall to her right. It seemed to be unnaturally sanguine for a corpse. Granted, Jasmine wasn't exactly a connoisseur of dead bodies, but she could tell that this girl was a little too red in the face to be dead. Maybe she was sleeping.

She was probably just sleeping.

The redhead to her right (not the wild one who was whipped; a different girl) was curled up in a ball and crying. It was understandable; the whole shadow attack had happened right in front of her face. She seemed a lot older than Jasmine, too. If she was crying, then why wasn't Jasmine crying too?

Probably because there was no reason to cry. That girl was just sleeping.

Jasmine knew her name, of course. It had been announced at the fight. Mulan. She didn't want to apply it though; it humanized the girl more than she would like, and made the girl's torture that much more unbearable. Jasmine had already purged the name of the other fighter – the one who died in battle – out of her head.

The redhead next to the girl, the one strapped to the wall, had her head hung and guarded by a shock of red hair. Jasmine hadn't a clue what she thought. Most of the rest of the girls Jasmine found unimportant, not due to an intrinsic property of those people, but due to an apathy born entirely out of unfamiliarity. She wished she could speak some of their languages. She had spent some time in the palace studying Indian and Persian languages, perhaps some Greek… but that seemed like it would be a waste here. The girls were mostly west European.

For some reason, the dark girl directly across the cell from Jasmine drew her attention. It may have been that her face was the most contorted of all the girls there. The conscious ones, anyways. She had been horrified. Jasmine would have said she was from the African continent, somewhere further south, but on the occasion that Jasmine heard her speak, she heard a European language. That girl was a curious oddity, to be sure. Of uncertain origin.

Jasmine had, by now, turned her head from the right entirely to the left. There was quite a bit of distance between her and the girl to her left. Quite a bit of distance and an empty chain. Jasmine cringed, remembering the beheading. It wasn't just some person who had been executed. It was Snow White. The name had been announced; it was Snow White.

And she hadn't just been executed. She had been slain by Mulan, who was in turn tortured for not being harsh enough. For being indecisive, perhaps. In either case, it was not clear who had won. Mulan won the fight, technically, but was tortured fro doing so poorly. Snow White lost… but she had escaped. She was the first of the girls in the prison to escape.

Snow White was, in a sense, free.

Jasmine shook her head. Thoughts like that weren't going to be any help. She needed to focus. She had been scanning her surroundings for the longest time without finding any means of a stealthy escape; she couldn't even, she hated to admit, remove her own chains herself. She was stuck, and she was going to have to play the system. And that meant fighting.

It was the only plan she had. If she could win her first fight, and was sure to give a 'good' show, then she could buy herself another week. Maybe some chance would come up then. She didn't want to risk being invaded by shadows, and be as destroyed as Mulan.

But apparently, Mulan wasn't destroyed; much to the shock of the ten other girls in the chamber, Mulan at this time hacked up a phlegmy cough and began breathing hoarsely at the pace that any living human would.

• • •

Mulan blinked furiously as she adjusted to refilling her corpse with her soul. She could feel her fingers wriggled in the metal hand locks, and her spine crawled with the chilling sensation of metal against her bare skin in places.

The scissors, the thread. They had almost snipped.

Blood trickled down to her sleeping feet and soaked little by little through her brain. The last dark flashes left her head as her vision and hearing returned to normal.

A flame-haired man, and a green-faced woman.

The last of these thoughts was finally purged as Mulan gained full capacity of her own body again. She hadn't a clue how much time had passed, but judging from the condition of the ten girls staring dumbly at her, it hadn't been too long. There was an empty space of chains to her left, two spots forward.

That must've been the girl she fought. The one that tried to poison her. Snow White, if she remembered correctly.

The other girls had no idea, did they? They just saw a ruthless monster murder a girl much younger than herself, just because she was told to do so. They didn't know about the poison. But then again, did Snow White?

Mulan's issue was not that she killed someone. She had done that before in the Army. It wasn't that she wrongly killed someone; then it would've been straight guilt and dishonor. The thing was, she couldn't decide if she had done the right thing.

On one hand, that apple Snow White had held up was undoubtedly poisoned. Snow White had probably been relying on pity to win the match. If Mulan had fallen for it, she would've died.

But did Snow White know the apple was a poison apple? The poison explained why an apple was in the cart, but perhaps Snow White just picked it as a peace offering. Had Mulan seriously slain a girl who had given her a _peace offering_?

Mulan noticed that the girls were mostly still staring, except the previously crazy redhead to her right. Mulan would've liked to tell them the truth, she really would have. But it didn't matter all too much. Their opinions of her were not too important.

There was another week at least. Mulan had a week to find an escape route, without being Shadowed again. Without seeing Death, if she could help it.

• • •

Dinner came early that evening, and the candles were brighter than usual. Perhaps they had been replaced during that first fight? It was entirely possible. Rather nice of them, actually.

Aurora nibbled gently on her roll of bread – it was a whole roll this time – as she listened in on other peoples' conversations. The girls next to her would often speak in German, and she would laugh internally at their extravagant worry. They were probably single.

The fat man had given all the girls an apple with their bread today, along with the same strange cup of water. And – get this – he left the dungeon while they ate. The kitchen was apparently taking suggestions, and Aurora had a few she'd be more than happy to give.

Having nothing better to do, and finding herself bored with eavesdropping on others, Aurora thought about how she wound up here. At least, she thought about it until it depressed her. There was Maleficent, and there was a sack over her head, one fine autumn evening when she was just minding her own business. She was thrown into the back of a wagon…

Aurora shrugged it off. She had better things to dream about than that. Like Phillip. _Prince_ _Phillip_. She could dream about him all day, and how he would save her from this mess. Rescue her from the clutches of evil, and whisk her away to a safe place once again.

Aurora focused on Phillip until the fan man had left with everyone's dishes. She focused on him afterwards, too. She had nothing to worry about. Fights? She wouldn't fight. Phillip would've already saved her by then. She just had to rest until he got here.

• • •

Merida had nearly peed herself when the corpse to her left reanimated. She hadn't dared look at the girl; how awkward it was, to think she had died when she really hadn't.

Maybe she had died. Merida was not going to reject the possibility of incredible magic. Not after the things she'd lived through.

For once, Merida had not felt the need to talk anything out, or shoot some arrows to clear her head. She was silent. Watching a killer get killed but not really get killed, Merida imagined, should have the tendency to leave one speechless.

Merida had caught a glimpse of the other girls gawking at the killer when the food was being served. Merida had to admit, she had been a little nervous when her neighbor's chains were undone. Not that she couldn't protect herself – she figured everyone in the whole room knew that by now. It was just a tad unsettling, that's all.

It didn't matter too much now. The brighter than usual candles had been put out so the girls could sleep. Two of them would need to be well rested for the fight tomorrow.

It was still beyond Merida why the killer had actually struck the little one. Surely she thought of fighting back first? If Merida had her bow, she knew she would have shot her captors right in their damn faces…

That was it, then. Merida wasn't stupid; she knew she'd need her bow and arrows to escape from a place like this alive. She vowed that once she had access to them, she would get herself away form here, and take her competitor with her.

She wasn't going to be a killer.

• • •

The night had come and gone, and so had breakfast. The breakfast was the same as dinner last night, of course, but everyone had been too hungry to complain. Now, with relatively full stomachs, the girls were able to rest anxiously as they awaited being dragged out for the next match. Belle was comforting a panicked Ariel.

"I can't bear it, Belle! What if I get sent in today! What if I have to fight that crazy red haired girl in the very back?"

Belle bit her lip. What could she say? "I can't promise that you won't be sent in today… but it's not that likely."

"I'll be slaughtered!" Ariel threw her chained hands up into the air just to have them jerked back to face level.

Belle winced. There wasn't any blood, but it looked like the knock hurt a fair bit.

"See?" Ariel mumbled. "I can't even win a fight against myself."

"What if you don't fight?" Belle suggested. "Get the other person to help you get out of here. It could be me, you know. I'll help you."

"I can't do that! You saw what happened to that other girl!"

Belle couldn't argue with that.

Ariel stuck her face in her arms. Belle found that it had only taken a day for Ariel to burst out of her apparently false shell. At heart, she wasn't nearly the timid girl Belle was introduced to; she was energetic and curious, and a bit strange, to be honest.

"Just do your best. Hopefully, none of us will have to fight today." Empty words, Belle thought. She couldn't escape if she tried.

• • •

_Hopefully, none of us will have to fight today._ Empty words, Ariel thought. Because, of course, her fear was well founded.

"Our lovely assistant Miss Megara will now draw the name of the first competitor for the second match of Round 1," the announcer said. The girls were in a familiar place, chained up in a stretch, in that room with a glass wall.

There was a pause in which Ariel thought, briefly, naïvely, that she wouldn't be picked.

"Meg has drawn, ladies and gentlemen! And the first competitor is… Ariel!"

Yup. She knew it. Of course. Ariel had a feeling she'd get picked. It wasn't even a surprise, almost. She just wished she knew whom she'd have to defend herself against.

In mere moments, of course, she would know.

*****Author's Note*****

** So there it goes. Some crazy shit going on with Mulan, and Ariel being drawn into the next fight (which will be, of course, the next chapter). I made a lot of little sections this time; please tell me if you like this better, or if you prefer the longer, less numerous sections (or if it doesn't matter, or if it depends on what's happening). Thanks for reading and reviewing!**


	5. Round 1, Match 2

"And the first competitor is… Ariel!"

Belle's heart fell into her gut. She glanced over at the second person she'd both have the honor to meet and the pain to see pass in the span of a week. Unless, of course, some weak soul were to be pitted against her.

Belle noted the difficulty with which Ariel was walked out of the clear-walled chamber, not because she resisted, but rather because she found the very act of walking a bit difficult. Belle hoped it was just malnutrition, and that Ariel's opponent would be just as underfed.

Well, of course the opponent would be underfed. Belle had been living with them; they were all underfed. And, of course, Belle was one of 'them.'

"Miss Megara will now draw the name of the second competitor, ladies and gentlemen!"

Belle couldn't decide whether or not she wanted her own name drawn. On one hand, she could assure Ariel's safety if she was chosen, and sacrifice herself for Ariel. On the other hand, would she really off herself? Honestly… no. Ariel was nice and all, like Snow had been (Belle felt a pit, remembering Snow), but Belle had just met her. Perhaps some other girl should go against Ariel. Someone really weak, for whom no one particularly cared for.

"Meg has drawn, ladies and gentlemen! And the second competitor is… Jasmine!"

Who? Belle turned to see Gaston (yes, he was here this time too) unchain the Arabic girl with an enormous braid running down her back. The girl hopped out of her chains – _hopped_ out. That wasn't a good sign.

Belle watched anxiously as, over the course of the next several minutes, the two girls emerged from either side of the arena and each approached a little cart.

"Ariel, Jasmine! Choose your weapons!"

• • •

Ariel walked to the cart as cautiously as she could while being prodded on by her guard person. Weapons? Yeah, it was a fight, but she didn't know how to use any weapons! She had quite possibly never even touched a weapon (though she might have, and just not known it was a weapon. She had been _pretty_ clueless about human things as a mermaid).

Ariel had barely opened the cart before the announcer's voice rang out through the stadium, to much applause form the crowd. "And Jasmine has chosen her weapon: a fine pair of Arabian daggers! Yes, it seems that, like Mulan, Jasmine too is sticking to her cultural roots. And she is going all out, with a dagger for each hand." Curiously, the voice spoke French, like it had last time.

Ariel looked into the cavernous chamber of the cart. It was a lot more spacious than it looked to be from the outside. And darn! It was like they took her old treasure cave and crammed it inside of the cart. There were all sorts of human doo dads and thingamajigs that she was sure she had seen before, but would have no idea how to use. In fact, there was only one thing in there that she could even recall _touching_ before in her life, much less using. She even knew its name.

"And Ariel has now chosen her weapon, ladies and gentlemen! What a beautiful golden Mediterranean trident! Seems a bit heavy for her small build, but at least we'll see an interesting fight this time, folks."

Ariel heaved the trident upright. Holy mackerel, was it heavier out of the water! Sharp, sure. Ariel would be able to defend herself if the other girl didn't stop to try and talk things out. But it wasn't a magical trident, or any one she was used to at that, and it was too solid a weapon for Ariel to move around quickly.

"And now that our competitors have their weapons…" Ariel spun her head back. She hadn't even noticed the guard guy leave with the cart. "we are all set to start Round 1, Match 2. Let the match begin!"

The bell rung and was immediately followed by a deafening applause from the audience. Ariel chanced taking a quick glance at the spectators, and found them to be unintelligible dots in a sea of fanaticism. They were rooting or screaming or watching intently, but Ariel couldn't pick out any particular individual.

Maybe she shouldn't have looked. It didn't tell her anything useful, and it gave her opponent a significant lead. Ariel turned to see a darker girl running full speed with daggers held downwards in each hand. And Ariel realized with a certain terror that this girl probably didn't speak French.

• • •

Jasmine didn't want to kill. She really didn't want to. Perhaps she was a bit selfish, but she would much rather not experience the torture that Mulan girl had gone through. And, of course, if this redhead beat Jasmine, she'd just get slain later on in the competition.

Therefore, the best solution was to follow the program, kill the girl, and make it out of this hellhole alive.

Right?

Jasmine rushed towards the redhead; Ariel, the announcer had called her. Jasmine prepared herself to dodge any attack the girl might have planned with that enormous trident, but there was no need. Ariel seemed pretty distracted by the noise of the crowd, and only noticed Jasmine when she was within fifty feet of her.

Ariel had the trident held straight out in front of her, 12:00, with the butt resting on the ground and the spikes at the height of Jasmine's throat. Jasmine would have to cut to one side at the last minute… the right side. Why not? She had to pick fast –

Just then, as Jasmine was contemplating how to convey to Ariel her reluctance at what she was about to do, the trident swooped suddenly to Jasmine's side. It wasn't a piercing hit, but a spine did graze Jasmine's left shoulder and give her a pretty nontrivial gash.

Jasmine staggered out of the way and collected herself, hissing at the pain and blood now radiating from her shoulder. From the look of Ariel's face, they were both equally stunned at what had just happened. The announcer rambled on about an instant replay, whatever that was.

Maybe Ariel would have a better chance of winning this whole thing, Jasmine wondered. Maybe Jasmine shouldn't have assumed that she was the better fighter, and maybe all those theories Jasmine had come up with better applied to Ariel.

Of course, that one strike may have just been a fluke. Maybe the best course of action was still for Jasmine to kill this not so innocent girl.

There was only one way to find out. Jasmine had to try, with all her might, to beat this girl in combat. If she was the better fighter, her theories would still apply, and she would be that much closer to leaving this place safely. If she were to lose… Jasmine decided not to dwell on that.

By now, Ariel had found the time to pick up her trident and point it at Jasmine once again. The crowd roared as Jasmine stood up (she had crouched down from the pain, apparently) and examined Ariel's position for the second time. Jasmine wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

She knew she couldn't just go around. She had to deflect the trident, somehow, so she wouldn't be impaled. Jasmine gripped her daggers tighter as she felt the blood from her shoulder reach her elbow and drip onto her foot and went in for the kill.

• • •

Ariel braced herself. She couldn't rely on luck again.

If only she were able to properly wield this trident! It would have to be lighter, of course, and she would have to be a mermaid. But she could have zapped her attacker to smithereens without breaking a sweat.

Ariel would have liked to talk to her first, of course, but she didn't seem to be in the mood for chitchat.

The girl seemed very determined to give Ariel her best shot. She wasn't necessarily trying to survive, it seemed. But she was trying to kill Ariel. It was kind of terrifying, the grim look of duty the girl had on her face when the roar of the crowd lifted her to her feet.

This time, when girl started running, Ariel was paying attention. She was leaning to Ariel's right, probably where she was planning to attack. Ariel unbalanced the trident a little, so that it appeared to be pointing straight ahead, but was ready to fall to the side.

If all went well, the girl would get skewered like a giant evil octopus lady, and Ariel would get to live another day.

The girl's path curved even more to the right. She gripped her daggers tighter, and brought them up to neck level. Ariel let the trident fall to the right when the girl was hardly twenty feet from her.

Suddenly, the girl's foot anchored into the ground and threw her body to the left. Ariel, unprepared for this change in direction, grabbed at her trident, but it was too late. The thing was too heavy, and her hands too slow. She looked at the girl with eyes as wide as a giant squid's.

This wasn't going to end well.

• • •

Jasmine knew that the trident was far too heavy to maneuver once set in motion. She had agility on her side, and she took advantage of it. It worked.

Now came the part Jasmine had to dread. The kill. Jasmine met the horror Ariel expressed at losing control of her weapon with complete sadness. I hate to do this, Jasmine said wordlessly, but I have no other choice. It's either you or me, and I'd much rather it be me. Sorry.

The trident fell into the dust, never to be touched again. At least, until the round was over. Jasmine curved around behind Ariel and crossed her arms, having her right dagger to the left of Ariel's neck and her left one at Ariel's back, near her heart. She slit and stabbed at the same time, hoping to end the fight as quickly as possible.

The body slumped to the ground, with the knives still hanging in its flesh. The crowd went wild. Jasmine stared at her handiwork and was immediately ashamed of herself.

Was there no other solution than this? Surely there was! There was, and Jasmine just hadn't thought of it. There had to have been.

But if this was the best that she could think up, then Jasmine gave it her best shot. The girl would have killed her had she been the better fighter. She would have had a better chance of escaping the whole thing alive.

The pain of Jasmine's shoulder wound suddenly caught up with her as the energy of the match subsided into grief. Jasmine clenched her dripping sleeve with her right hand, but was sort of glad that the piercing sting shooting from her shoulder was enough to distract her from any further moral questioning of her actions.

Jasmine had underestimated in the heat of battle how serious that gash had been. She had lost a lot of blood and was now faint – enough so to actually faint. She had not a thought in her head when her view became entirely black.

• • •

It had been a few hours since the fight. One more murderer had been made. And there was another empty spot beside Belle.

Rapunzel couldn't watch Belle cry. She turned to the right to see that blonde who had yet to speak stare pityingly at Belle. To the left, Cinderella was as teary-eyed as Rapunzel herself. It was a fair amount, to be sure, but a bit drier than the tears shed after the first round.

Belle was left alone on either side. There was actually a double gap on one side; that girl who had killed Ariel had been taken away, probably because she passed out right after the fight. Probably, she died. Hopefully, she died.

Honestly, Rapunzel just wanted to go home. She just wanted to see Eugene again, or her parents, or Pascal or Maximus or someone. The hook guy who played the piano. She'd be okay with that.

At least she had some friends in this room full of strangers. But two of them had died, and the other two were grieving the losses. Rapunzel was too, technically. She was sad that Ariel was dead. But it didn't linger inside of her as much as Snow's death had. Why was that?

Was she just a terrible person? Cinderella wasn't really any more affected by the death as Rapunzel. And that other girl, the blonde to her right – she barely gave a damn. Were they all just terrible people?

Rapunzel wasn't a murderer, though. There was only one murderer in the room, and she was chained up tighter than anyone else. That was a plus, right?

Rapunzel wondered where Ariel's killer was. Probably lying with Snow and Ariel. Hopefully lying with Snow and Ariel.

• • •

Ursula sighed in frustration. Why in the name of Neptune did she have to work with such an idiot?

"The _shark_ eyes, Hans," Ursula repeated for the hundredth time, trying not to strangle him to death. "These are sunfish eyes."

He caught the bottle she tossed back. "Don't blame me, asshole. How am I supposed to know the difference when you don't label a damn thing!"

Ursula held in her anger. It wasn't very easy to piss her off, but holy mackerel, did this guy have a handle on it.

He tossed her a bottle that, thankfully, actually had shark eyes. "Why am I even here? I don't know a damn thing about your underwater potions and shit."

"You don't know a damn thing about anything else, either," Ursula grumbled. "I needed an assistant, and you were the only one that literally was useless for every other job."

"What do you even need shark eyes for? Can't you just bandage it up, like a normal person?"

Ursula stared at Hans incredulously. "Are you retarded, boy? The point is to have her up and running by next week and it's my job to fix her that fast."

"So why shark eyes, then? Why not sunfish eyes?"

"It's what the recipe calls for."

"So why can't you change it?"

"Because these potions are very specific about their ingredients."

"Then use a different potion."

"Shut the fuck up."

Hans smirked. The ass probably thought he had stumped her, and that's why she had finally cracked. Whatever. If it got him to shut up, it was worth it.

Ursula applied the paste she had made out of the shark eyes and a few other things to the competitor's shoulder wound. She watched as the flesh bubbled shut, and the color began returning to the girl's skin.

It wasn't too long before the girl had regained her two-ish ounces of lost blood. She didn't wake up, but she was alive. Alive and ready to fight later on.

Ursula almost smiled. Anybody who would slaughter Ariel had her favor.

*****Author's Note*****

** And there goes round one, match two. Man, we're a third of the way through round one already! So yeah… that happened. At least there was an actual fight this time, and not just an execution. And I gave two more villains a job. Each princess's villain has to do his or her part, after all. Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

** P.S. amy hobbs, Ariel can only do those things as a mermaid, I think. As a human, she's got nothing.**


	6. Responses to Imprisonment

A knock on the door caught Maleficent's attention. It wasn't unwelcome; she had been expecting this knock, and the thing she was focusing on at the moment wasn't very urgent anyways.

"Come in, it's unlocked."

In walked the Evil Queen. A pretentious title, in Maleficent's opinion. As if she were the one and only. At least her foolish arrogance made her a little authoritative and rather ideal for a managerial position – and she tended to report with meticulous detail. She was barely tolerable at worst, and almost a friend at best.

"So," Maleficent began as the Queen took a seat on the opposite side of the desk. "Tell me everything I need to know."

"The girl who was injured in the fight today has healed completely and will be lead back to the cell before suppertime. Not only will she be ready to fight next week, but she'll even be able to practice this weekend."

"Good," Maleficent nodded, prodding the Queen to move onto the next point.

"The rest of the girls may need a little more food to keep their energy up. As you have noticed, there was a marked difference between the first match and the second, and the second was fueled by a greater quantity of food."

Maleficent frowned minimally. It would be a bit of a financial setback, but not much of one. It was perfectly doable. "Then we'll need to fix that. Have someone notify Ratcliffe before anything is prepared for dinner tonight."

The Queen nodded, and moved on. "Using larger candles in the cell has also paid off. From what Dr. Facilier told me, that the better lighting made the other girls able to see what happens if they do not perform satisfactorily. He believes that was the reason behind the increased aggression today."

"Do we need to increase the lighting further?"

"I would say not."

"Good." She was already going to have to blow some cash on food. "Anything else?"

"Not much," said the Queen.

Maleficent caught sight of the Queen shifting in her seat and felt that she was hiding something. "What of the queen?"

"Pardon me?" The Evil Queen thought Maleficent was referring to her.

"The one with ice powers," Maleficent clarified. "The Queen of Arendelle, I believe."

"Oh, her." The Queen shifted again. "She's under control. Ever since we put Jafar on that post, there haven't been any incidences. A genie can handle anything the girl can dish out."

It was incredibly unlikely that everything the Evil Queen had said was accurate. The situation was obviously a little more precarious than she made it seem. But it was still very early on in the game, and there was no need to raise tensions between friends just yet. Whatever lack of control there was could be fixed later.

"Is that all?" Maleficent's silence unnerved the Evil Queen. She was right to be unnerved.

"That is all." Maleficent dismissed the Queen and continued what she had been working on before.

• • •

Cinderella witnessed Belle's eyes finally turn dry. She had been crying for a while, but a body only has so much water it can shed. Belle had reached her limit, apparently.

Cinderella didn't dare talk to her. It wasn't that she didn't want to comfort her – of course she did. Belle and Rapunzel were the closest things to friends she had in this wretched place. But by speaking she would also run the risk of setting Belle off, and that was a risk she would rather not take.

No, Rapunzel seemed to be the saner option in this case. She was less shaken by Ariel's death for whatever reason, and though she was of course grieving it, it didn't seem to consume her entirely.

"Rapunzel?" Cinderella spoke a little too loudly, and the echo of her voice awkwardly broke the silence in the somber cell.

Rapunzel turned her head heavily. "Hmm?" She looked drained, as if watching Belle suffer had sucked something out of her. Cinderella didn't blame her.

"I-" Cinderella almost spoke, but she realized that she didn't have anything to say. She just wanted to break the tension.

Rapunzel hung her head again. There was nothing to hear.

Cinderella thought for a while, having nothing else to do. She could get drawn tomorrow for the fight. In fact, she was more likely to be drawn, since some people had fought already. She could be pitted against Belle or Rapunzel, and then one of them would have to die.

Would they?

Yes. Yes they would.

There was that girl who fought the first day against Snow, who _killed_ Snow… and even she had been punished. How, Cinderella could not fathom, but it must have been tortuous, if it made Ariel's killer fight with such vigor. Ariel's killer had been chained adjacent to Snow's killer. She would have had a good view of the torture.

But why would that have to be the case? Cinderella didn't _know _any of these girls, technically, and she was only comfortable around Belle and Rapunzel… and Snow. So two of the nine girls left, besides herself. She couldn't call it a familiar setting.

Maybe those two killers were just bad people, and that's why they killed. The first one, Snow's killer, maybe not as much – she hesitated, at least, before being forced to kill. But Ariel had lost anyways. She had put up a good fight and even put a scuff on the other girl… but still lost. It made Snow's death seem almost pleasant.

Ariel's killer had to be either tough as nails or rotten as Cinderella's stepsisters. It was the only explanation as to why she would kill so viciously. It had to be – Cinderella knew that _she_ wouldn't dare stoop to that level, when her time came. She wouldn't kill another human being.

Cinderella's thought was suddenly halted; the door of the cell opened, and in stepped, along with some sideburned fellow, Ariel's killer.

• • •

Anna was not exactly thrilled to see the biggest asshole Arendelle had ever known walking a killer to the spot right next to her.

She decided not to give Hans the satisfaction of pissing her off. In any other situation she'd just punch him in the face, but in her current shackled position she would be unable to act past words. If all she could do was scream at him for something that happened long ago, she was better off not saying a word.

Of course Hans was a part of this whole operation. Anna should have seen that one coming. Locking girls in a dungeon and forcing them to kill each other: evil. Hans: evil. Of course he was a part of it.

As Hans approached, Anna hid her face behind her loose red hair. With any luck, he wouldn't even notice she was there.

"Scoot over," he said, sounding a little irritated.

Anna waited for the sound of clacking metal as Hans locked that girl back into place. It didn't come.

"I said scoot over, Anna. You're sitting on the chain."

Anna felt a tug under her butt. Oh God, she really was sitting on the chain. She scooted over a bit so Hans could do his job and get the hell out.

Hans began locking the girl into place, struggling to get the locks undone. "Fucking bitch," Hans muttered under his breath, "sends me to do Gaston's job." He finally clicked the things open and threw the girl he had in them.

The girl began rambling softly to herself in a guttural, phlegmy language. Hans understood as much as Anna did, which is to say none at all.

"Shut the hell up," he spat, kicking the girl so her face was in the ground. There was no serious damage, it seemed, but a shove into metal and stone would hurt nonetheless. It really pissed Anna off, to watch Hans treat another girl like that.

"Hans, you asshole!"

He turned his head incredulously and cracked a mile wide smile. Anna immediately regretted making her presence known.

"Nothing," Anna said, trying to divert attention away from herself again. It was a stupid try, of course, but she tried anyways.

"Anna! I was wondering where you were!" Hans came up to her and grabbed her chin all menacingly, like he had before. He made a fake pouty face and spoke way too sarcastically. "Your sister was worrying about you so much."

Anna nearly lost her shit. "You know where Elsa is? Where is she? Tell me!"

Hans flicked Anna's chin up before letting go, making Anna bite her tongue. Damn, that hurt. "I wouldn't tell you if I knew, and you couldn't do anything about it regardless." And before Anna could say anything, he just left, grinning horribly the whole way out.

Anna deflated into an exhausted ball much like the one the girl Hans led had formed. They shared an incredibly brief look, but Anna got a sense of gratitude from the poor exhausted girl. She couldn't have been over fifteen, and she'd gone through all that…

A heavy sigh escaped Anna. Here was this girl to her left who was still kicking after going through the same torture Anna had, but with a murder on top and three years less of life to back it up. She had real problems. The girl to her right – she was the one Anna saw tortured by that skinny sorcerer guy in the purple suit. She had killed, too, and been tortured. She had real problems.

What did Anna have? She didn't know where her sister was. None of the girls knew where their families were. That wasn't special. She was uncomfortable in the thick metal chains, but compared to the full body restraints two of the girls had, the chains were almost laughable.

Anna had it easy compared to some of the others in the room. Two of them were dead, and two of them had to kill to save their own lives. And Anna saw one bad guy from her past, and it stressed her out so much that she cursed more than she had in the rest of her life combined.

Unless Anna had Elsa rescue her before her first fight, she was a goddamn goner.

• • •

Belle decided to talk.

Isolation is never the answer. A little alone time to get over grief, maybe, but not indefinite isolation. Isolation is like imprisoning yourself, which is bound to be more depressing than what made that happen in the first place.

So Snow and Ariel were dead. Belle couldn't let that immobilize her. Not while Rapunzel and Cinderella were in the same danger Snow and Ariel had been in. She had to help them escape before the same fate befell them.

"Rapunzel?" Belle whispered. There wasn't a perfect silence in the cell, but it was dead enough to make talking normally seem unreasonable. "Cinderella?"

The two turned their heads. Cinderella smiled, as if she was glad to hear Belle speak, and Rapunzel just sort of looked blankly.

"I think we need to talk." It was kind of a stupid thing for Belle to say. Of course she thought that; that's why she spoke.

"Yeah," Cinderella responded. "I think we do."

There was a bit of an awkward silence until Rapunzel sniffled loudly. "Jeez, Belle, you had me worried there for a while."

Belle furrowed her brow. "_I_ had you worried?"

"You were crying for a pretty long time, Belle," Cinderella explained. "We didn't know if you were going to be all right."

Belle hung her head. "I'm fine. It's just…"

"It's just what?" Cinderella asked.

"Nothing. It's pretty stupid."

"Just say it," Rapunzel said. "Please."

Belle stared straight at Rapunzel. "I felt like they were my sisters, Ariel and Snow. My two younger sisters, who I watched die." She felt the same about Rapunzel and Cinderella, Belle noticed. They were like her older sisters, even after a few short days.

"Trust me, Belle," Cinderella began, "I grew up with stepsisters. It's not a very pleasant experience. They're not like sisters, but they were friends."

Belle shrugged. "I was an only child. I guess I wouldn't know."

Rapunzel sighed. "I know what it's like to make a friend too quickly, Belle, and lose them. It happened to me once… but my friend survived. I was pretty darn close to losing him, though."

"What happened to him?"

"I married him."

"Oh." Belle thought of Adam, and then of Lumiere and Cogsworth and Mrs. Potts…

"But there were some pretty shaky moments in there," Rapunzel continued. "At least in the end he had to kill my greedy mother by cutting my hair."

Belle and Cinderella both raised their eyebrows.

"It's a long story."

"Chat away," Cinderella said. "We have time. Besides, it might do us well to take our minds off of death for a little while."

Belle relaxed a bit as Rapunzel prepared herself. She was glad she'd spoken up –apparently, Rapunzel and Cinderella had been waiting on her. It was so nice that they were around to comfort her like that, and be her big sisters.

• • •

Aurora found it rather fun to just people watch, especially when her neighbors were being so talkative. All in German, too – it's like they _wanted_ her to be listening.

Aurora was human. She heard all the things these people, whose names were Belle, Rapunzel, and Cinderella, said to one another. She was sad at the sad parts and happy at the happy parts. It was as if she were watching some really good play that she was, oddly, a part of herself.

Not for long, though, Aurora reminded herself. Phillip would come and rescue her. He had to. But he should have found her by now…

Aurora stared at her own body as Rapunzel began babbling about her husband. Lord, was she filthy! Several days of just lying on the ground in a dank cell with twelve other sweaty people was so much nastier than resting on a nice, cozy bed, waiting for your prince to come. It was far less romantic, anyways. A lot grittier.

She had gotten used to the sound of her rumbling stomach by now. It was pretty easy to ignore, hearing it as often as she did. Hopefully, today's dinner would be even bigger than yesterday's. It would be if it followed the trend of the last few days.

Aurora caught Rapunzel speaking. "…And I told him not to freak out, but it's kind of hard not to freak out when you realize the girl you've been traveling with has magic hair, you know?"

At least Aurora still had her wits about her. That was a plus. She couldn't imagine that just a few short days in prison would make someone start fantasizing so chimerically, but apparently some people were just less resistant to adversity than she was. She just needed some food, and she'd be fine.

That's why, when the dinner guy walked in with even more food than last night, Aurora sat easy in the knowledge that she could keep her sanity until Prince Phillip rescued her from this rank looney-bin.

• • •

Jasmine was glad to find that she could fall asleep. It had been a long day.

She felt a lot better than she had after the fight, both physically and mentally. Her wound was healed, with miraculous completeness, by an… octopus? Jasmine didn't have full mental faculties about her at the time. It probably wasn't an octopus.

Regardless, that person had healed her wound completely. She had regained all the blood she lost, and there wasn't as much as a scar to show for the original wound itself. After a nice fat meal like the one she was given today (she couldn't identify it, but it seemed distinctly European, with strands of wheat noodle mixed up with meat and a strange red sauce), she was as well cared for as she could hope to be in a prison. Physically, of course.

But the shock of death died down with time, too. As time distanced Jasmine from the horrible events of that morning, she found herself accepting what had happened. She had to defend herself, right? And the other girl had attacked her too! It wasn't the murder of an innocent person, but rather an act of self-defense. If she hadn't done what she did, the redhead would have speared Jasmine with her trident.

At a point, even Jasmine's thoughts became as black and hazy as the night around her as she drifted off into sleep. Perhaps there was time for one last thought. Jasmine knew that the fight itself was horrible. The time immediately afterward, unbearable. But after a few hours… it wasn't too bad.

While Jasmine certainly didn't envy the girls who would have to fight next, she didn't feel too sorry for them either. Unless the fight was not in self defense…

*****Author's Note*****

** So there you go. No hints as to who's in the next fight, but at least there are some more views into what people are thinking. It was kind of weird to write Anna cursing, but I felt like seeing Hans would be able to piss her off that quickly. There will be a fight every odd number chapter until the first round is over, by the way.**

** To respond to some concerns:**

** spatterson and Guest, I'm counting twelve total princesses in the list: Disney's official eleven plus Anna (because, let's face it, she'll be on the list soon). Most other characters will be from the Disney princess movies (like Maleficent, Ratcliffe, etc.), but any Disney character is fair game (like Meg as the name-drawer, for example). I'm leaving it pretty open to any Disney from any time.**

** musical heart-13, I actually have a lot of this story planned out. Not all of it, but a lot of it. I'm sticking with the big picture scheme I have, but things people suggest are nice for the fine details I have to work out as I'm writing – and I don't always do it consciously, either. Sometimes I find that I'm writing what someone suggested just because that happens to be what I imagine the scene to be like. I'm not going to do anything that'll go against my main plot, though. I love the long reviews by the way!**

** I'd like to say more, but I can't because spoilers are a thing. I don't want to spoil something that doesn't even exist yet. **

** Anyways, thanks for reading and reviewing and for enduring this ridiculously long author's note! Sorry I took so long to update, but to make up for it, this chapter is ~2800 words instead of the usual ~2000.**


	7. Round 1, Match 3

Belle woke up casually, well before Gaston arrived to lead her and the others to someone's death. There was no morning sun in the cell, of course – it could have been the middle of the night, for all Belle knew – but it felt like it was time to wake up. It was the calmest Belle had been in several days.

That wasn't necessarily a good thing.

She was in a cell against her will, and she didn't even truly understand who her captor was. It seemed to be more of an organization of some sort, one that involved dangerous magic and… Gaston. The two didn't seem to mix. There had to be something very strange going on behind the scenes.

Two of the four friends Belle had made in an attempt to plan an escape had been killed. It was only a matter of time before the other two or Belle herself would suffer the same fate. Escape? It had been three or four days – there was no sun with which to track time, but Belle felt it had been that long. Belle wasn't any closer to an escape plan than she was half a week ago, and now she had two less allies with whom to work.

Three less after today, if the pattern continued.

In all likelihood, Belle would never again see her father or Adam or anyone else from back home. She'd probably be killed. She was captive in a strange place where girls were killed off at the excruciatingly slow and steady rate of one a day, and she had no escape plan.

And yet, for a short moment, Belle felt calm. There was candlelight, but the wax wasn't too melted as far as Belle could see. The sound of whomever had lit the candles entering and exiting the cell must have been what woke Belle up. Instead of finding a dim, ashy light carve away at tear streaked faces and matted hair, Belle observed a soft glow be cast onto the resting faces of peaceful young women. The blonde to Rapunzel's right, the one who had yet to speak a word, seemed especially at ease.

Belle had gotten used to the smell, and the only sound to be heard was the steady repetitive snoring of a girl in the back. It was almost lulling. There was one other person awake, but she didn't seem to want to say anything. She was too far away to talk to, anyways.

Eventually Gaston burst in with his fistful of chains and woke everyone up like he was expected to. It didn't startle Belle. Even after all the girls were locked up, Belle was thinking only of two people.

"Rapunzel? Cinderella?' she said as Gaston tugged the girls out of the cell.

"Hmm?" Rapunzel responded. Cinderella turned her head.

"Promise me that I'll still have you with me tonight. I like your company. You're my friends." For the first time in days, Belle smiled gloriously.

Cinderella and Rapunzel shared a worried look. They nodded yes, but Belle could see they were reserving their true thoughts on the matter.

They were right to be worried. Either of them could be killed in an hour's time. Heck, Belle could be killed in an hour's time. Things could turn even worse in an instant. There wasn't a damn promise they could make and expect to keep for certain.

Belle was calm, but she couldn't be calm for long. She was in the calm before the storm.

• • •

Jasmine didn't even know why she had to go see the fight today. She had already been drawn this round. Her part was over. She just wanted to stay in the cell and wait for Aladdin to show up on his magic carpet – she was too tired to try and escape. She wanted Genie to poof in and take her out of there.

Why hadn't Genie shown up yet?

The thought troubled her enough to trip up her feet, and she almost slipped onto the pale freckled redhead behind her, the one who had been arguing with Jasmine's escort yesterday. When the girl caught and righted Jasmine, Jasmine thanked her in Arabic. She probably didn't understand, but hopefully she could tell from Jasmine's tone what had been said.

The stadium was packed, as always. Jasmine gauged by the roar of the crowd how much blood-thirst was swelling in the stands. It wasn't too bad. As much as yesterday at most, and a record low at least.

When the girls had settled in their viewing chamber, Jasmine realized she was standing right next to Mulan. She remembered that name – Mulan. The girl who had killed first, and the girl who had suffered first (the person she murdered was granted a clean execution; it wasn't too tortuous). She was kind of a legend by now, Jasmine imagined.

At least she had done her job without goring her opponent senselessly.

Jasmine cut her train of thought on the chance that she might get sick. Besides, the announcer had started speaking.

"Welcome all to the third match of Round 1!"

The crowd cheered.

"You know the drill, ladies and gentlemen, so let's get straight to it. Miss Megara, draw the name of our first competitor."

The audience was still deafeningly loud, but there were quiet murmurs bubbling around the room. After a quarter minute the announcer came back on.

"And Meg has drawn! The first competitor is… Anna!"

Jasmine felt the pale freckled redhead (the one who had caught her, the one who had argued with her escort yesterday – yes, that one) stiffen immeasurably as her chains were undone. And it might have just been Jasmine's feeling sorry for the girl, but she could have sworn the viewing chamber became a few degrees colder.

• • •

Anna felt that. Anna definitely felt that. It got colder. It wasn't just her mind playing tricks – the other girls felt it too. Anna could see them looking around. The buff guy undoing her chains looked around. Maybe it hadn't reached the audience, but they were probably a little chilly too.

Elsa was somewhere close by… close enough to send chills when Anna was sentenced to fight.

So why the hell wasn't she saving Anna from her nearly certain death?

• • •

"And now Miss Megara will draw the name of the second competitor!"

Rapunzel waited nervously with the other six girls who had yet to fight. She wouldn't really mind if she had to fight now. At least that way, she'd be guaranteed that she wouldn't have to fight Belle or Cinderella or that crazy-ass redheaded girl who was usually in the full body restraints. Rapunzel shuddered. No, definitely not her.

The audience was being painfully loud, so loud that the announcer had to clear his throat to get their attention. "And Meg has drawn, ladies and gentlemen! The second competitor for the third match of Round 1, the one who will fight to the death against Anna, is… Cinderella!"

Rapunzel deflated. She knew that she could probably handle herself in a fight – she was pretty handy with a frying pan, after all – but she didn't know about Cinderella. She had to just hope for the best and wish her good luck. At least she hadn't been pitted against someone too friendly or too unfriendly.

Rapunzel was rooting for Cinderella, but one painful glance at Belle showed that she was worried out of her right mind more than anything else.

This fight would be crucial to Cinderella's survival, of course. But Rapunzel had the feeling that Belle wouldn't be doing so hot if Cinderella lost either.

• • •

Anna was displeased but not surprised that of on the Duke of Weselton's cronies was leading her down to the arena. Hans was here, she was here, so of course they were here too. Anna just wished Kristoff or Sven or Olaf would show up.

Or Elsa. She could really use an Elsa right about now.

The buffer of the two cronies grabbed Anna by the arm – and, swear to God, he _growled_ at her – and brought her to a great metal door. He heaved it open to reveal a vast dirt arena with two little carts, one on Anna's side and another clear on the other half of the battleground. There were two large mirrors on one side and an audience on the other three. Anna knew the angle of her view from the holding chamber and concluded that the mirror was the same pane she usually had to look out of. It was some sort of mirror that was only a mirror on one side.

A blonde girl about as old as Anna emerged from the other side, escorted by the other crony, when the announcer spoke. "Anna, Cinderella – choose your weapons!" The crowd began roaring again (they had calmed down for a while there).

The man pushed Anna closer to the cart. Anna looked at him grumpily. "What was that for?"

"So you'd grab your damn weapon before the other girl starves to death, that's why."

Anna didn't bother arguing. It would be pointless to argue, even if she had just gotten to the stand, and there was no need to push her.

She really needed Elsa. She could tell the air was colder and so could everyone else, but it wasn't a very directional cold. Anna had no idea where they were hiding her sister. She'd just have to play along.

• • •

Across the arena, Cinderella was already rummaging around the cart for some weapon she could recognize. There was a sword, but there was not the slightest chance that she could wield a sword. A lot of other weapons she couldn't identify, a few knives… she was pretty handy with a needle and thread, but that wouldn't help her even if there were some in the cart. What would she do, sew her enemy into submission?

Actually, thinking about it, that would be pretty brutal. Sewing parts shut… Cinderella was genuinely terrified at the circumstances that would make her genuinely consider those things.

The cart was a lot larger than it seemed from the outside, and in one corner of it Cinderella imagined for a hot second that there was a broomstick. She grabbed it. It felt like a broomstick, but it was longer and had painted stripes in places. It was a bit better balanced. Perhaps it was from an incredibly high-class broom or something.

"And Cinderella has chosen the staff as her weapon, ladies and gentlemen! What a classic – and quite unexpected, if I may say so. This is sure to be an interesting fight."

As Cinderella held her staff (apparently this was a staff and was at no point in time part of a broom), a violent thud rang from the large mirrored walls on one side of the arena. Another thud, and then another… and then a crack. A loud and resounding crack, and a skinny flurry of snow erupted from the long slit in one of the two mirrored walls.

• • •

"Elsa!" Anna screamed so loudly that she nearly banged her head on the cart as she brought her head up.

"Shut up!" The Duke's crony shouted. He acted authoritative, but Anna could see the genuine horror on his face before he whipped around to inspect the incident for himself. The crowd had fallen silent – everyone was watching and waiting, whether they knew it or not, for Elsa to make all hell brake loose.

The snow poured out of the gap, faster and faster, at greater and greater volumes. More, more, more, blast upon frozen blast. Elsa had to be up there. One after the other, blast, blast, blast. Half the arena was littered with the white dust, and Anna could feel a few flakes reach all the way over to where she was standing.

Then the bright blue crystals of ice started turning purple, then red. A large cloud formed, a sinister crimson thundercloud, and engulfed Elsa's snow streams. It pulled them in, tighter and tighter, until finally all sense of action imploded and the crack was resealed with a definite clap. There was silence.

It was a few seconds before the announcer came back on. Fifteen at least. "Umm… sorry about that, folks… we were just having some difficulties with our staff and all, but things are back under control now." The announcer was obviously trying to draw attention away from that. "Anna, choose your weapon."

• • •

Elsa was slammed against the back wall of her private viewing chamber. The heavy shackles that were already bruising her wrists and ankles crashed into each other, cutting her legs and arms and chest. It was only a matter of time before her face was hit in one of these bouts.

Jafar sealed the crack shut and conjured a dagger. He held it up to Elsa's throat. He muttered furiously, "What the hell was that all about?"

"My sister is out there," Elsa spat back. How did she even have the strength to speak? "That's what."

Jafar leaned in closer and grit his teeth, tightening his grip on the dagger. "Do you have _any_ idea what you just did?"

Elsa said nothing.

Jafar suddenly lowered the dagger, as if he'd given up. "I don't know how else to discipline you, Elsa. You're a royal. A queen, even! And you can't even follow orders." Jafar shook his head.

He was playing some kind of trick. He was always playing some kind of trick. Elsa said nothing.

"Your sister is going to be very disappointed in you, Elsa," Jafar continued. Total bull, of course. "You should really be more considerate. What if _that_ had to be the last thought she ever thinks?"

Elsa tensed. "You leave Anna out of this!" Elsa had to try breaking through again. She had to. For Anna.

Jafar cracked a smile. "So that's it, then. She's in it already." From a cloud of red dust he created a hand to shove Elsa back onto the viewing glass. It was a large wall of a window, and Elsa had her scarred face smeared right up next to it.

Elsa said nothing.

Jafar crouched down next to where Elsa was heaped and ran the dagger down her arm without piercing the skin. "Now, watch!" Jafar stabbed the dagger through Elsa's clothes and into the ground, pinning her in place, before leaving the viewing chamber to once again observe from the outside the protective steel door.

• • •

Anna was presented with a vast array of weapons that she hadn't touched before in her life. It didn't even matter; all Anna could think about was Elsa.

She was there. Not just there, but _here_, within eyeshot of the arena, behind one of the long mirrored walls. Anna was just a couple hundred feet from reuniting with her sister. She just had to find how to get there.

It was a great vertical distance to climb; she couldn't just use a rope with a grappling hook. There were no stairs, and the ramp Anna had apparently used to get down to the arena was probably studded with other buff guards.

_Think, Anna. What would Kristoff do?_ Anna's stomach clenched. Kristoff…

The crowd started getting restless, and some started booing. Okay, not some. Most. Most had started booing. The Duke's crony punched Anna on the shoulder.

"Hurry the hell up, bitch."

Anna grit her teeth and sucked up the pain form her shoulder. She had to be strategic about her choice… there were some string like things near Elsa that Anna could barely make out. Perhaps they were supporting ropes of some kind, and Anna could burn them down. At least she would be _doing_ something.

The crowd was roaring and the announcer said some rude thing. The crony punched her again.

Burn the ropes down… ah! Anna reached for a torch, a nicely sized mob torch that seemed robust enough to keep a flame going. She could burn down the ropes.

"Finally!" the announcer said, "We have our weapon!" The crowd stopped booing. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is in fact _not _a club but a torch. A simple torch, but a rather violent torch. Of course, our assistant in the arena will have to light this weapon for Anna."

The crony pulled out a little silver box and flipped the lid open. He struck his finger against a wheel on the spout – and a flame burst into existence.

Anna stared wide-eyed at the fire box as her torch was lit. The crony smiled. "It's called a lighter. Sort of a reusable matchstick. They're teaching me all sorts os things here."

Anna rubbed her eyes with her unoccupied hand. What was this, where fire leapt from little metal pocket boxes?

Anna watched the flame dance up and down on the torch's end. She moved the torch left, and the flame moved left. She moved the torch right, the flame moved right. It was shockingly easy to control, for maybe her third time ever holding a torch.

Hmm. She was like an inverse Elsa, in a way. She controlled fire.

• • •

"Ladies and gentlemen, members of the audience, I think we are ready!" The crowd began roaring again, for the third day in a row.

Cinderella examined her opponent from afar. She didn't seem too bad. That torch was terrifying, but she was sure her staff could protect her well.

Unless it caught fire.

Hopefully, Cinderella wouldn't have to worry about any of that. She'd talk the other girl down, or she'd simply knock her out. She didn't have to kill her.

Cinderella's stomach knotted. Knock someone out? That she had the nerve to think… but she needed to, didn't she?

She had to, lest she be tortured. She would prefer to not be tortured.

The announcer came back on. "Let the third match of Round 1… begin!"

And, immediately, Cinderella's opponent made a mad dash for the far side of the arena.

• • •

Anna ran faster than she had ever run her whole life. Even faster than when she'd run from that snow monster Elsa made. Even faster, this time towards Elsa, her torch whipping its flames feet behind her.

She could see the ropes, but they just disappeared into the ceiling of the arena. They were at the very edge of the stadium, right up against the wall. Anna had a chance.

It wasn't long before she was chopping through the slush Elsa had made. It wasn't very high, maybe a few inches at most, but it was enough to slow Anna down and to make the sandy floor of the arena disgustingly wet. Slushy.

"And Anna sure seems to be taking an unusual approach," the announcer said. "Running _away_ from her competitor. My guess is that she's trying to confuse Cinderella, and she's sure doing a heck of a good job."

Anna spat at the announcer mentally. No, that was not why she was running. Anna picked up her foot from a particularly thick snow pile – a foot at least – and found her foot to be turning red. She was getting closer, where the snow was thicker. The torch raged on, and Anna raged onward.

• • •

Cinderella stood in place looking like an idiot. The redhead (Anna, the announcer had called her) had obviously gone insane. What did she even hope to do by going over there? It made no sense.

The crowd was just as confused as Cinderella, and they were starting to get a little restless. Cinderella had to do _something_ or she'd wind up getting the same treatment as that Chinese girl.

Cinderella shuddered. She had turned away when it happened and it still gave her chills. She just remembered the face of the dark girl next to her, and that was enough.

No, she couldn't dare disappoint the audience. But she was doing just that by planting herself like a lame mute, and it was getting worse by the second.

So Cinderella made a decision. She would have to run, and she would have to run now. She wouldn't kill the girl (and probably couldn't kill the girl), but maybe she could talk her down. Get her to play dead or something. Whatever she could think up in a split second would be fine.

Cinderella ran, to cheers from the crowd, _towards_ the wall that had just erupted snow. She was trying to be rational, but the world around her had gone mad.

• • •

Anna collapsed at the wall, defeated. She was exhausted; she had never run so far or so fast her whole life, and for what? For metal cables. Metal fucking cables. Geez, you'd have thought she would see that from a mile away if they weren't all covered in sand. Stupid sand.

Anna still had her torch, and it was burning madder than ever. It was a quarter gone at most, but probably way less than that. It was an odd sensation, her hand being next to fire and her feet having soaked in icy sludge. She was done.

How could she burn the ropes if they were metal? You can't burn metal! And with a panic, Anna realized that the other girl was charging at her with a staff raised high above her head as if she were giving a brutal performance.

"And the roles have switched, ladies and gentlemen! Now Cinderella charged _at_ a stunned Anna, and right up against the stands, too! It's your lucky day if your seat was in section B!" Anna looked up and behind her, but there was a wall. Judging from the other side of the arena, though, Anna could tell there were people seated practically above her.

Anna didn't care about the crowd or the announcer. They weren't in her way. This girl, the one charging at her through the slush, the one with her staff raised high… she was. Anna would try to find some way to get to Elsa peacefully if she could. But, in all honesty, Anna didn't care _how_ she would reunite with her sister. She just knew she had to. She had to; it was her only shot.

She had to find Elsa. And if there was anyone in her way, she'd burn that person. Elsa could freeze people's hearts… Anna would roast their skin. If it brought her closer to Elsa, it was worth it.

• • •

Cinderella charged extravagantly, flailing her staff around threateningly. The crowd loved it, and it would keep Cinderella alive for a bit longer.

_Rapunzel? Cinderella? Promise me that I'll still have you with me tonight._

Belle's words rand in Cinderella's head. Lord, that seemed ages ago. But Cinderella knew that she had a responsibility to a girl that had in just a few days considered Cinderella her sister.

Cinderella wouldn't be like her stepsisters were to her. She wouldn't depress Belle, and she wouldn't kill Anna.

Finally the time came for Cinderella to make her move. Anna was within feet of her, so Cinderella struck the ground near her with her staff. It was an intentional miss, but the redhead seemed genuinely excited by it. She shouted some words in some northern language and stood up.

• • •

Anna had tried torching the cables without luck, and was thus left to fight for her life.

Her opponent had obviously never used a staff before. All the better for Anna. She dodged blow after blow, until one struck her in the chest.

Anna flew back into the wall of the arena, the wind knocked out of her. The torch, miraculously, stayed alight, but Anna was barely holding it. It was a wonder she hadn't burned herself yet.

• • •

Cinderella hated herself for not missing that shot. She said sorry in German a million times, but Anna couldn't understand her. But the show had to keep going until Cinderella could figure something out. She struck left and right and up and down, but never on Anna herself.

Anna gripped her torch more firmly and righted herself, dodging Cinderella's fake blows so much that on occasion she walked right into them.

Everything was mad.

• • •

Elsa watched her sister be assaulted from high above. She couldn't bear it. Anna! She mentally screamed. Get up!

She had a plan that she had been weighing the consequences of for some time now. She could use some ice to cut a circle out of the glass wall – a discreetly cut circle. She'd send an icicle down or something to pin Anna's opponent in place, just so Anna would have time to run away.

It seemed too risky before. But now, far too long into the fight, Elsa began seeing flecks of red below, and she grew angry.

Perhaps now it was worth it.

• • •

Cinderella became frustrated. Sit still, Anna! She kept trying to miss only to have Anna 'dodge' the blow and end up walking into the next. Either that, or Cinderella was really just that bad a shot.

She wasn't cut out for this, and she was exhausted. But she kept hitting, and Anna kept 'dodging.' The torch, Cinderella noticed, was still alight.

Then there was a little clank behind her. Far too quiet for the audience to hear, apparently, but definitely noticeable. Anna noticed it.

The next moment, Cinderella found she couldn't move.

• • •

Elsa watched Anna like a hawk. Move, Anna! Run! The other girl was frozen in ice below the ankle such that the surrounding slush concealed the block.

• • •

That was Elsa, Anna thought. And she thought more: if she killed this girl, the guards would come and take her away, right? Perhaps closer to Elsa.

It was a long shot, but it was worth it. Anna needed to get the hell out of here, and Elsa was her only hope of doing that.

Anna eyed her torch, and then the blonde. The flame glinted off the other girl's eyes. It was the last thing that ever would.

• • •

Belle watched, horrified, mouth agape, eyes streaming acid tears that carved canals into her grimy face, as Cinderella, her friend and escape partner and sister and support, was cast aflame by a sadistic redheaded girl of equal size with little hesitation and for seemingly little reason other than to drive Belle mad.

Everything was so mad.

• • •

Elsa watched, horrified, mouth agape, eyes streaming icy tears that built ridges into her cracking face, as Anna, her sister and sanity and reason for being, cast aflame an innocent blonde girl of equal size with little hesitation and for seemingly little reason other than to witness a death.

Everything was so dead.

• • •

"Oooh, that was brutal folks!" the announcer said excitedly. "Absolutely brutal! What a choice of weapon, people – what a choice!"

Anna shook her head fiercely as what she just did dawned on her. There had been a bright campfire here just moments before. Then the girl, screaming in agony, had fallen into the slush and sizzled out. Parts were charred, and parts were fleshy. Anna looked away.

Those guards had better bring her to Elsa. They better had. All the terrible things Elsa had attributed to herself seemed like child's play.

Anna snubbed her torch. Elsa wasn't a monster, as some had called her. She was misunderstood. Anna – there was the monster. She killed a girl. Why? To find Elsa? Would she find Elsa? And if she did, would it have been worth it to kill this girl?

Anna was a monster. Yes, it would be worth it. Anna thought only of Elsa as the Duke's cronies entered the arena (cautiously, this time around) to fetch Anna and the corpse.

*****Author's Note*****

** So yeah, Anna and Belle are pretty much batshit crazy right now. I figure they've seen enough violence in their lives to know it's real and can't be thought away, while not having enough experience to be dull to it. Also Elsa… let's see what ends up happening there.**

** Sorry I haven't posted in a while. First of all, it was the end of the semester (exams and all), and also this ended up being a long ass chapter. I hope the 4000+ words makes up for it! I think it's the largest chapter I've ever written.**

**And now to address the elephant in the room: Eilonwy. I'm going to be honest, I had to Google her name. I've never even seen the Black Cauldron. If so many of you think it's worth a watch, I guess I'll watch it, but I can't promise that Eilonwy will become an integral part of the story. Sure, I might give her a cameo, but only if I've seen the movie so I know what the heck I'm doing. Sorry for the disappointment, but I hope the story is still enjoyable without her.**

** So there it is. A lot of insanity going on with the original princesses, but not much outside of that. **

** Anyways, thanks for reading and reviewing! Tell me what you think about the story and the fight. Just for tracking's sake: Mulan, Jasmine, and Anna have won fights, Snow White, Ariel, and Cinderella have lost, and Aurora, Belle, Merida, Pocahontas, Rapunzel, and Tiana (in no particular order) have yet to fight. I'll try to update faster this time!**


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